Sleeping Beauty
by Ersatz Writer
Summary: Miles curls up when he sleeps; Phoenix clings. P/E oneshot


**AN: **I have no idea what this is. Fluff? Humour? Romance? Uhhh... I just needed to write P/E. Properly. As a pairing. It was driving me crazy. I must also be lacking on cheese (don't eat cheese a lot in China) so all this cheesiness is presumably to make up for the lost fat.

Very un-edited. Mistakes and weird tenses galore. I'm sorry. Please point it out to me if you spot any. I'm sure there are lots. It'll be probably be like a Where's Wally game. Or something.

**Disclaimer: Ace Attorney belongs to Shuu Takumi**

Please enjoy.

* * *

**Sleeping Beauty**

Phoenix woke up in the middle of the night.

He didn't often do so, but when his dreams temporarily escaped him and he became aware of the dark, fuzzy room, he made the mistake of opening his eyes, and the sleep disappeared immediately.

For a moment, he was happy simply to lie there, gazing at the ceiling and allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim light. Then, he became aware of the light breathing from next to him, and slowly turned to find the quiet, sleeping form of Miles Edgeworth lying by his side.

He smiled. Miles wore pink pyjamas, a fact that still made him grin as he recalled the first time they had spent the night together. Miles had reddened, muttering at Phoenix's mocking words, and pulled at his collar as though it made him hot. But all it took were a few kisses and whispered words before he could finally be persuaded that, yes, Phoenix loved to see him in pink pyjamas, and that yes, he should wear it. Every night, if he wanted to.

The prosecutor had huffed, appearing mildly indignant, but Phoenix had simply to capture his lips, and the anger, if there truly had been any in the first place, had disappeared and despite himself Miles had chuckled, quietly, and told him to stop being an idiot and go to sleep already.

He looked over at his lover now. Miles curled up when he slept, his body rolled naturally into a loose ball. His back was turned upon Phoenix's, leaving the middle of the bed feeling cold and a little empty.

Phoenix sighed. They always slept holding each other. Or at least, Phoenix holding on to Miles. Of the two of them, Phoenix had proven to be the clingier one, who liked to drift to sleep with his head resting upon Miles' chest, or an arm hooked around his. For Phoenix, there had to be contact, and Miles, though he grumbled occasionally of being too hot and sweaty or crushed to death under Phoenix's grip, never really made much of an effort to remove the defence attorney.

During the course of the night, they often drifted apart. And at those times Phoenix would wake briefly, and as soon as the distance between them was realised, he would reattach himself and drift back into slumber. Now he did this without truly opening his eyes. As soon as Miles was gone, his arm would fumble sleepily until it discovered the other man, and he would roll, snaking his hand across the other's waist and pulling them close. There, for just a moment, he would revel in the prosecutor's comforting warmth, the solidity of his chest, rising and falling as he breathed, or the faint thumping of his heartbeat, tingling beneath his fingers…

Even with his eyes closed, he would locate Miles' shoulder, and rest his chin there, nuzzling quietly until citrus scented sleep would reclaim him.

But tonight, Phoenix wasn't in a hurry to sleep. Instead, through the shaft of moonlight filtered a gap in the curtains, he sat up and watched.

Miles lay, curled, upon his side. His hair, usually so neat and combed, flopped a little haphazardly upon his pillow with all the beauty of a deranged flower, petals disordered and without pattern. The prosecutor's face was pale, as pale as the marble of Italian statues, and he looked so still he may as well _be_ a statue, eyes closed, brows relaxed, for once at peace with the world.

But he was still curled up. A protective stance even in sleep, body folded around the arm he liked to clutch when he was confronted with a subject he didn't like. Phoenix sometimes wondered if that was the way Miles had slept before - before DL-6 had been solved, before the nightmares had disappeared, gone for good. He imagined the prosecutor in his younger form, waking up panting and shaking and without anybody to turn to. He wondered if this was exactly the way he would curl up then, quaking and crying with all the pain of a young boy alone in the world.

_Well, you have me now, Miles_, he thought. _You're not alone anymore, OK?_

It felt both painful and sweet to see the man, so feared and ruthless within the courtroom, lying in such a vulnerable, exposed state, before _him_, of all people.

Phoenix settled down, pulling the covers back over himself and stared into Miles' back. The prosecutor was still sleeping, light snores occasionally mumbling past his lips. He looked beautiful, face illuminated by the breaks in the moonlight that turned his hair a mysterious shade of silver. At that moment, Phoenix felt like the happiest man in the world.

He shifted closer, supporting himself on one arm to bend over the prosecutor's face. Lightly, he brushed his lips across his neck, taking in the scent of citrus, the scent of _Edgeworth_, and wrapped his arm tenderly around the other's side.

"I love you, Miles," he whispered, gazing quietly into his lover's peaceful expression.

He wasn't sure whether the other man heard it or not, though he wondered if the faint flush in his cheeks meant anything.

* * *

Miles woke up in the middle of the night. Not for the first time, and probably not for the last.

He opened his eyes to the darkness and remarked to himself upon another dreamless night. Sometimes, they felt too quiet, too peaceful, without that nightmare bothering him. He had become so familiar to the sensation of waking up in the middle of the night, shaking and trembling, sometimes with tears he didn't think he had streaming down his face, that to wake up feeling calm and _safe_ was still an emotion that felt vaguely foreign to himself.

Indeed, it had become a habit of his to wake up long before dawn, and when he was alone, Miles had learnt how to use this time productively. When he was younger, he would read to try and set his mind off his unease. Older, he had begun to use this time to file through his cases, sorting through profiles and reports to prepare for another trying day.

But now… Now that he was no longer alone, he turned his attention to the man snoozing peacefully next to him.

Phoenix clung when he slept. More often than not, the defence attorney's chin would be resting upon Miles' shoulders, or his arm slung across his waist. Phoenix snored too, rather loudly at that, his breath always tickling into the prosecutor's ear or stirring through his hair. Had it been anyone else, Miles would have found it highly bothersome. But it was Phoenix, and, somehow, to hear the attorney sleeping so soundly and contentedly next to _him_ was a warmth rather than an irritation.

Occasionally, if Miles was feeling fond enough, he would allow the attorney to snuggle up to him and sleep against his chest. During those times, it didn't seem to matter how sweaty and uncomfortable his pyjamas will become by morning.

More often than not, however, Miles woke up to find himself facing the wall. It was a disheartening move in itself. He was never quite sure why a part of him insisted upon turning away from the man he was sure he could trust with his life.

But Miles was not a person who 'cuddled' easily either. Too often had he glanced around to find Phoenix snoring happily away at his own side of the bed, sprawled in all kinds of odd positions that he apparently found comfortable. Half the time, he left his pyjama top unbuttoned. So you can admire my sexy body, he had said, grinning foolishly, and Miles had rolled his eyes in exasperation at the response, though he really couldn't complain.

Why don't you leave your shirt unbuttoned too? Phoenix had then suggested, and Miles promptly gave him a smack upside the head.

Sometimes, he felt a little guilty. In the face of this goofy, earnest man, his own response seemed to be filled with nothing except constant rebukes and exasperated sighs at each enthusiastic suggestion, serious or no. He knew that, whenever he turned away at night, it would not be long before Phoenix began to search; before the arms wrapped around him again and the defence attorney would utter a contented little sigh at locating the other.

It was both sweet and foolish. _You shouldn't hold on to me like this,_ Miles wanted to say. _I'm not as strong as I may seem. _

And whenever the thought crossed his mind, Phoenix would pull them even closer, and his breath would whisper into Miles' ear:

_I know exactly how strong you are, and I trust you. _

Or so he thought. But there was no way Phoenix could read his mind, and neither could he speak, not when he was snoring so heavily in his sleep. It would still be several hours until dawn, after all.

Miles lay in bed now, listening to the defence attorney sleep; feeling the steady rhythms of his body's breathing against his. Their heartbeats mingled – a crazy, irregular beat that seemed to dance to its own tune.

He relaxed into the other's arms, content merely to listen to Phoenix's soothing murmurs of slumber.

It was amazing, really. He didn't know how he did it, but Phoenix knew. He knew when he was hurt, when he needed someone, and he was always there. Hand outstretched, smiling his goofy, awkward smile.

No, he was no longer the goofy, awkward young man Miles had been so disgusted with, so few years ago. He had matured, he had grown, into a man who understood. No, he'd always understood. It was Miles who had not.

But he did now. In the face of this man who loved him, the only way to repay him was to love him back.

And Miles wasn't complaining.

"I love you, Phoenix," he murmured, eyes softening at his lover's resting features.

He wasn't sure whether the other man heard it or not, though he wondered if the faint smile crossing his face meant anything.

* * *

**AN: **Speaking of P/E, I highly recommend **To Turnabout Eternally** by **Ari Moriarty**. If you want a good story, with a perfect blend of humour, fantastic characterisation, plot, and realistic background, go to this one and prepare to get addicted. Please give it a look when you have time. You won't be disappointed.

In the mean time, thank you very much for reading this. Thoughts are welcome. Especially ones on where to get a de-cheesing machine.

**Edit: **Additionally, check out **ShotgunShujaa**'s fanfic, **Missing Pieces**, as a sort of side-fic to this. It's her first AA fanfic, and she's done a fantastic job! Please take a look if you have the chance! Thanks! :3


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